


Screamed at the Make-Believe

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Alpha Stan Marsh, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Omega Kyle Broflovski, Pining!Stan, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 17:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20727896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stan would love Kyle no matter what he turned out to be. But who knows how long he can keep these feelings a secret?





	Screamed at the Make-Believe

It didn’t come as a surprise, the day Stan found out he was an Alpha. Some part of him felt as though he just always knew.

He was considerably early—having presented before any of his peers attending alongside him at Junior High during their pubescent years. The odds were undeniably working in his favor: to not only have been the first in South Park of his generation to have presented, but for him to be an Alpha as well. Just like his father.

It happened during the summer following his sixth grade year—a few months after the football season for Park County Middle School ended.

Stan had spent the time in between taking up odd jobs here and there—whatever anyone would let a twelve-year-old do. His preferred method of work was through walking the dogs of the neighborhood elderly, whom for one reason or another, were unable to do so themselves. It was a wonderfully nostalgic experience for Stan—reminding him of both his late grandfather (throughout the countless conversations he indulged in with the clients), and his once beloved Sparky.

Careful not to spend a dime of his earnings (except for sometimes a cheap ice cream cone or a pack of bubblegum from the convenience store he visited with his mother every so often), Stan managed to earn enough and more for the mandatory $40 registration fee to participate in the football camp held at a highly prestigious military academy out in Colorado Springs.

The nursing staff that were provided on location would go on to say it was a perfectly normal and healthy reaction, Stan presenting. Something to do with how his body remained idle for quite some time before throwing himself completely into the sport.

The sudden shift had jump started a spiking influx of testosterone and adrenaline, far surpassing that of the other boys training there with him.

Stan had always been a natural, unquestionably the best player in his district: gifted with the innate ability to live wholly in the moment without thoughts to weigh him down, wherein all his movements flowed into one another like like an uninterrupted stream of what came to Stan like second nature. Whereas the other players may have clung to possible wandering worries or paused in hesitation, Stan left caution to the wind.

In following the period that he was securely detained until his first Rut subsided, the authorities wasted not even a second in sharing with his family the delightful news. Immediately, once was active on the field again, the coaches made no effort to hide their favoritism for Stan. This treatment would become all too familiar in the years to come.

Eventually, some of the children that he once played imaginary games in the streets before dark with presented themselves in time—the most notable to Stan being Wendy. 

Although they had no longer been together since their elementary school days, Wendy Testaburger was still held in high regard by Stan. Once he was able to get over himself following their repetitive breakups, Stan came to realize how much he respected her, and how good a friend she’s always been, regardless of his immaturity and emotional outbursts. Especially after he presented, as Wendy would say that it was definitely his biology to blame for his lack of impulse control that led to all the drama time and time again. 

It was a bit of a shock at first, when Wendy presented as an Alpha as well. Perhaps it just had to do with just how rare it was in their little mountain town—the only other female Alpha being Kyle’s mother, Sheila Broflovski. But then this fact too, eventually made all the sense in the world when Stan thought more about it. Both women were chocked full of spitfire, believed fully in their hearts for the things they stood for and against, and were a bit on the aggressive and ‘breathing-down-your-neck’ side. 

Kyle was excitedly anticipating to be presented as an Alpha himself—just like his mother and best friend. Stan agreed that there were undoubtedly traits he held that were all too similar to Sheila and Wendy, but for some reason, the idea of Kyle being an Alpha just didn’t make the most sound sense to him.

Eventually though, Stan simply blamed the oddity of the idea on what was considered the norm in the world, regarding the biology of others: it was heavily encouraged and a little shoved down everyone’s throats in this society, that Alphas should be with an Omega. Stan decided to himself long ago that no matter what Kyle was, he would always be a perfect fit to Stan. He would unconditionally love and take care of him—Alpha or not. Even if life would be expectantly difficult for them, and they’d no doubt face more challenges than the more ‘accepted’ couples.

As long as Kyle would be comfortable with that, of course. It seems as though he’s the only one in the whole state of Colorado who is completely oblivious to Stan’s feelings for him, which in some ways was a blessing and a curse.

But as time went on, and Kyle was far past the time that most people presented—as they were in their junior year of high school now—perhaps the average bystander would consider Kyle to be a Beta, despite the argument he’d always give of simply being a late bloomer. 

“Oh, you definitely are,” Kenny amused, reaching over the cafeteria table to take some fries off of Stan’s tray. “But probably not in the way you want to be. Just because I’m a Beta, that doesn’t mean I can’t spot an Omega from a mile away!”

“You’re so full of shit, Kenny!” Kyle retorted. Despite the rude remark, there was no bite in it, and it rang with the sweetness that was Kyle’s lovely voice, still pitching at parts in his speech like it had when they were little—especially when it raised.

Maybe he really _ was _ an Omega, his body just taking its time to present. But no matter what he was, Stan would like nothing more but to bundle him up within his arms and hold him tight, to drown him in his own scent. 

It was especially aggravating—sitting so closely beside him, Stan’s body aching with the need to pull Kyle in close to keep him safe and warm. He was usually allowed to, but only in private. Kyle would be much too embarrassed letting Stan hold him under watchful eyes. _ “They’ll think I’m an Omega!” _

Whatever it took, Stan wanted so much for Kyle to feel comfortable and protected—even if that meant having to deny every fiber of his being begging to gather Kyle’s body up against him.

“You know how much they love me!” Kenny replied. “I’m the least threatening hottest piece of ass at this school, and even you can’t deny how many throw themselves at my feet to help with their _ needs_.”

Kyle leaned closer to Stan in disgust, making a face as Kenny stuck a tongue out at him.

Kenny definitely took his biology in stride, although in some ways, he could be considered lucky to be a Beta. But with it, he had lost the arguably unfair advantage on the world as an Alpha, or even the possibility of being whisked away to marry into a more well-off home as an Omega. But that still didn’t stop him from signing up for classes that were more entailed for Omegas—from home economics to culinary arts. It secured him with having more than enough Omegas to shyly approach him, soothed by his nonthreatening presence and boyish smile, to help them through their more...difficult times of the year. 

“Stan, smell Kyle and tell him he’s an Omega.”

The startling request made Stan's heart falter, skipping a beat. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined it before: about what life could be like if Kyle's biology was complimentary to his own, and just how sweet Kyle's scent would be—how much Stan would want to be intoxicated more with his presence than he already was now, if such a thing were possible.

Kyle however, blushing to his ears predictably due to how easily rattled he could be, picked up a fry to throw at Kenny; perhaps to Kyle's disappointment, Kenny dodged it, laughing. 

“Hey dude, don’t waste perfectly good food!” Kenny bubbled between laughter, reaching over to ruffle Kyle’s disheveled curls. Kyle jerked away with a scowl that looked more like a pout, and leaned further into Stan to the point they were touching. Stan felt a little high by it, trying to ignore the little urge to just engulf Kyle completely. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“Oh, I forgot. That’s only for Stan, right?” Kenny meant only to tease, but it riled up Kyle enough to make him abruptly unstick himself from Stan’s side and stand up, pulling with him his back, and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Kyle, wait—!” Stan called out, but Kyle was already stomping away into the crowd of students, before leaving outside the cafeteria. Stan watched for the unmistakable red-as-roses nest of hair until it disappeared past the building’s doors, and he turned to Kenny with a glare.

But Kenny didn’t notice as he pulled Kyle’s discarded lunch tray towards himself, scarfing down a handful and a half of his barely eaten pizza.

“See, he even eats like one!” Kenny said, though it was muffled by the food in his mouth.

Stan groaned and crossed his arms on the table, hiding his face in them. “Fuck, dude! Why did you have to piss him off like that?”

“Oh, come on! He’s _ so _ into you, it’s just torture just watching you guys skirt around each other. I could tell he really liked that idea—he was blushing so hard! It was so cute!” 

“You don’t really know that,” Stan sighed, sitting back up and running his hands through his hair, a nervous habit. “God, you’re embarrassing, Kenny. He’s going to find out in no time if you keep this up, and then he’ll hate me for it!”

“Hold up, hold up,” Kenny interrupted.

He craned his neck to peek over Stan’s shoulder, looking for someone in particular. “Butters! Hey, Butters! Come here!” 

Stan looked over to see that Butters had caught Kenny’s eye, and his face broke out into just the most heart-meltingly smile you could imagine. He practically skipped from his usual lunch table to come bounding over to Kenny. He looked as tiny as ever in his oversized sweater that nearly covered his fingers. Maybe it was a nesting sort of thing? Stan still didn’t understand it very well, and wonders if he should press Butters for more information sometime. Maybe. 

For a brief moment, Stan was reminded of the countless times Kyle had spent the night at his home—how he would always borrow something of Stan’s to wear, and just how small he looked in them himself. Kyle inherited the perfect combination of his father's lanky frame, and his mother's unusual shorter height. Stan could never deny the pride and overwhelming happiness that swelled through him when Kyle was completely basked in his scent—although he was starting to run out of excuses for why more and more of his clothes were missing each time his mother did the laundry. 

“Hey, Ken! Hi, Stan!” Butters chirped, standing beside their table. He had his little hands folded in front of him together, and although he kept tugging on his sleeves in hiding his wrists, his scent was filling up the air all around them. And it was heavenly.

“Stan doesn’t think Kyle likes him,” Kenny stated, and Stan reached over to punch his shoulder, earning a yelp.

“Jesus Christ, dude! You don’t need to say it so loudly!” Kenny was embarrassing as ever with how blunt he could be. Almost as much as he was perverted.

“Relax!” he laughed. “He’s not even here to hear us! Butters, do you think Kyle likes Stan?”

Stan wanted to kick him this time, trying to fight off the blush that was painting his cheeks. He was genuinely curious to hear what Butters had to say, though. 

Butters didn’t linger around with their group as often as he used to when they were kids. Once he presented as Omega, his parents were keen on keeping troubling boys like the Alphas Stan and Cartman away from their pure, innocent child. They wanted to raise him in a way that would promise him a bright future—to become such an attractive and stereotypical Omega to the point that any wealthy or powerful Alpha would be helplessly seduced by him. Stan was sure it was less for Butter’s benefit, and more for his parents’. There were rumors started long ago that he was even castrated as to better his chances, and although it would explain his immature figure and light voice, he didn’t think it would ever be appropriate to ask. 

At any rate, the kind of Alpha they were looking for that would be good enough for their son wasn’t anywhere to be found in his student body. Stan figured he must have the scent of a virgin that lingered, but while Butters’ aroma was very pleasant to be around, it never felt irresistible. Or at least not to him.

Butters looked between Kenny and Stan with a perplexed look—his brow furrowed and lips puckered. “What’cha mean? Aren’t you and Kyle boyfriends?”

Kenny was hardly able to contain his howls of laughter, and several of their peers were looking up from their conversations and lunch to see just what was so amusing. Stan was near ready to throw a fry at him himself.

“Kenny!” he hissed, “Keep it down, will you?”

“No, they’re not boyfriends. Hell, Kyle doesn’t even know that Stan is _ totally _ head-over-heels for him!” Kenny announced without any filter.

Stan could feel the stares of the cafeteria directed at him now, and wished he had chased after Kyle when he left instead of staying here just for everyone to learn about his crush on his best friend.

“You can be a real asshole sometimes, Kenny,” Stan spat at him, before picking up his things to leave. Nevermind his lunch—Stan completely lost his appetite, and felt near ready to vomit just imagining anyone in the room telling Kyle about Stan’s true feelings for him. 

As he exited and was making his way towards one of the campus restrooms, he could hear little pitter-patters of the sound of someone following him from behind. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Wait! Wait up, Stan!” Stan didn’t want to deny Butters—he hadn’t done anything wrong, and only had his best interests at heart. 

Butters broke into a wide grin when Stan waited for him to catch up, and he was even rewarded with a small hug—his tiny hands struggling to reach around Stan’s physique completely. Stan couldn't honestly say that he never thought about the idea of being with Butters. Maybe in another time, in another life. He could really be too damn cute for his own good, and especially in need of protection. 

“I’m awfully sorry for what happened back there!” Butters said as they ended their embrace and began to walk side-by-side. Stan moved on well past the bathrooms, not wanting for Butters to witness him tossing his cookies. “Kenny doesn’t mean to upset you, honest! He just has a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

“Kenny can go eat a dick,” Stan snapped, but felt bad for the harsh tone that overcame him, seeing Butters flinch. He didn’t need to hear this. Hell, he didn’t even need to be here. He just wanted to help Stan feel better.

“Well. I hope I’m not being rude, but is it true? Kyle doesn’t know?” 

Stan sighed. “Yeah. But it’s probably not going to last for long now that _ everyone _ has heard. Kenny—what he asked, do you think…?”

“Oh, well sure, Stan! The way he looks at you—haven’t you noticed?” Butters asked, and Stan could feel the knots in his stomach twisting, and the sensation of releasing everything within him transformed from out of fear and towards hope, though still laced with pins and needles.

“How, uh. How does he look at me?”

“Like you’re all that matters.”

* * *

Stan stood beside his banged-up hand-me-down of a 90’s model Toyota, waiting impatiently as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Usually he preferred to wait for Kyle right outside the classroom door of their last period to walk to his car together, but with how upset Kyle was when he exited at lunch, Stan didn’t know if it could offend him somehow to be hovering over him. But he didn’t want to drive off either, just in case Kyle didn’t want to walk home in all this snow. Which he probably wouldn’t.

Stan had to stop himself from running over the icy road of the parking lot to attack Kyle with a body-crushing hug the second he saw him, and instead went to the passenger side to open up the door, as a dejected Kyle approached with a sulk before throwing his bag over into the backseat and slumping into the chair.

As soon as they started to drive off the campus, Stan cleared his throat, wanting to soothe Kyle right away. “Hey, what Kenny was saying earlier. He’s just a dick sometimes—”

“What if he’s right though, Stan? I’ve never stopped thinking about it, you know. The possibility, that I’m. _ Fuck!_” 

“Kyle!” Stan reached over to rest a hand on Kyle’s knee, feeling himself heat up just imagining if he were at all able to slide his fingers higher. He squeezed gently, daring to take his eyes off the road ever couple of seconds to meet Kyle’s miserable expression. “Dude, don’t even worry about this! Kenny doesn’t know everything, and maybe you _ will _ be an Alpha! People present later than others sometimes—it happens!”

“But what if I _ am _ an Omega, Stan?” Kyle cried. “My parents probably won’t even let me leave for college, like Butters’. All I’ll ever be good for is having babies! Stan, do you know how terrible that is?”

Stan didn’t, and he never will. But his heart ached for poor Kyle, so close to tears.

“Fuck them, dude! Fuck anyone who thinks that. You’re the smartest guy I know, you can do anything—”

“Stan, can you. Uhm.” Stan was unable to tear his eyes away from the road for a second, but he held his grip on Kyle’s knee even tighter, more than ready to give him anything that he needed to help him feel better, and wanted to express it and more. 

It was silent for longer than expected, and Stan wondered what’s the matter, when he looked over and saw Kyle staring into his lap with a very flushed expression: biting down on his lip, his brow furrowed and his skin tinted with pink from his cheeks down to his neck.

It was single handedly the most arousing thing Stan had ever seen up to that point, and he cursed inwardly as he felt an oncoming erection beginning to emerge before forcing his eyes away before the nature in him made him do something stupid. No matter how much he was teased and poked with taunts, Kyle had never been so speechless and abashed like this.

“What is it? You know I’m always here for you,” Stan spoke as softly as he could, trying to swallow down the guilt of wanting to jump Kyle for how he looked in this situation, obviously too flustered to ask him something of him. It was killing Stan not knowing what it was with each passing second ticking between them.

“What Kenny was saying. About. Well, you know…,” Kyle trailed off.

Oh.

Oh, fuck. Did someone tell Kyle about what they overheard at lunch? Stan's nerves were a bit shaken; he wasn't ready for this conversation right now! Especially in having his confession be totally ruined by gossip. Stan hadn't prepared for this in all the times he had daydreamt about how one of these days, he'd spill his feelings to his best friend. Whenever that would be, though probably way too soon at this point, thanks to Kenny.

Instead of confronting the subject head-on, Stan quirked an eyebrow at him, and Kyle groaned, leaning forward in his seat and hid his face in his hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about what Kenny—”

“Can you, like, smell me? Please?”

His voice barely made it past his palms but Stan heard it, his breath catching in his throat. He suddenly felt the temperature in the air around them skyrocket, near suffocating him, and Stan was all the more aware of Kyle’s body under his palm, feeling the rise and fall with every breath he took as he waited for a response.

“Kenny doesn’t—you know he can’t. But. Alphas, they can tell just about what everyone else is. I just want to know...if it’s possible. Maybe it could, trigger a response, or something? I can’t ignore what he said. You know Cartman says the same thing...” 

Kyle was rambling at this point—probably out of nervousness—but with each word, Stan felt hotter, and was sure his hands were sweating at this point. Kyle still hadn’t looked up from his fingers.

“You know Cartman just likes to rile you up,” Stan managed, but it didn’t feel like it was the right thing to say. Kyle was obviously in distress. “But, like, right now? Alright, uhm. Yeah, here, I can pull over.”

“No!”

Kyle’s voice was near cracking, and stared up at Stan with an expression he faintly remembered from childhood. Barely able to hold back his crocodile tears. “No, not like this! I don’t want anyone to see!”

Stan had been told countless times that Kyle had him wrapped around his finger. But no one would ever understand just how much Kyle always needs him, and how willing Stan was to do anything for him—even if it was a request as impossible as asking Stan to give him the moon.

“Here, it’s okay, Kyle. We’ll just go to my house real quick, alright? I can—yeah. I’ll do this for you. Just give me a minute, ‘kay?”

He moved his hand from Kyle’s knee up to his shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze, followed by rubs. He heard an audible sigh as Kyle willed himself to relax under Stan’s touches, and with each second, was becoming a puddle under his hand.

As predicted, the driveway at Stan’s house leading to the garage was completely empty. The two walked silently up onto his doorstep, and as soon as he turned the key and opened the door to his living room, Stan’s heart was pounding relentlessly against his ribcage. His breathing was already beginning to shift, and for a second, he was worried that he was cursed with the terrible timing of his Rut approaching any second.

He forced himself to just take in a deep breath and try to steady his heart rate, having not been in a predicament like this one: wanting to eagerly provide someone what they were asking for, but having no idea what may happen next, how things may unfold. He decided on pushing those thoughts away for now.

They both dropped their bags and jackets by the couch, before making their way up the stairs, still silent. Stan internally scolded himself when he opened the door and saw the state of his bedroom that he left it in that morning.

“Here, uhm,” Stan fumbled as he discarded the clothes and papers off of his unmade bed.

If he had known something like this would have happened today, he would have set an alarm for an hour earlier than usual and made everything more appropriate, more comfortable. He had never failed to tidy up for any night Kyle was expected to sleep over, knowing how much his packrat tendencies annoyed him.

Kyle didn’t seem so focused on it though because he still hadn’t lifted his eyes up to Stan’s, and his cheeks were as red as his hair. He sat down on the edge, towards Stan’s pillows, and closed his hands into fists to rest against his knees. He was near shivering as Stan settled in beside him, but even when his weight settled into the mattress, Kyle leaned in towards him instead of away. 

“Kyle, hey,” Stan started, watching Kyle’s balled-up fists tighten until the veins can be seen, right at his knuckles. “If you’re nervous, we don’t have to do this.”

But then Kyle shook his head furiously, still not daring to look up at him. “Stan, please,” he barely whispered, though Stan could hear his voice wavering. “I really. I want you to. I just—I need to know. Please.”

“We can stop whenever you need to,” Stan said. “You don’t have to do...to do anything you don’t want to. Just tell me, yeah? When you want me to stop.”

Stan swore there was more saliva in his mouth than there had ever been in his lifetime, and he swallowed heavily, realizing he was beginning to feel nervous, too. “Okay, Kyle. I’m—I’m going to smell you now, okay?” 

Kyle nodded furiously, squeezing his eyes shut, and held his breath. Stan couldn’t deny that he was anxious himself.

It was normal for them to hug and be glued to each other’s sides. Stan even took the initiative to hold his hand any excusable chance he got.

But it wasn’t a routine for him to press his face against Kyle’s neck consciously like this. He had to move away anytime he woke up at sleepovers in such a position as to not scare Kyle away from him with the close proximity. But now Kyle’s was asking for it, and he didn’t want to mess this up or frighten him away.

Stan leaned in, and let out a shaky breath before carefully sniffing the air resting at the side of Kyle’s neck. There were goosebumps rising there already, and Stan recognized the familiar scent of something clean and flowery—perhaps shampoo? But there was also something else, though it was much too faint at this angle.

So Stan shifted closer, so he can manage to tilt his head and take a sample of the back of Kyle’s neck, where these scent glands would be at for Alphas and Omegas. The scent is a little stronger, but it’s almost teasing. 

Frustrated and determined, Stan collected some of Kyle’s curls resting at the back of his neck and pressed his face into his neck, practically nuzzling Kyle as he inhaled more forcefully now, holding up Kyle’s hair as he inspected the nape of his neck where his hair started. 

He heard Kyle release a gasp, and his body melted against his own once Stan pressed his nose and lips against him, finally releasing his breath.

Although Kyle didn’t seem to yet be relaxed, as his hands moved from his knees to gripping for dear life on Stan’s sleeve. His body trembled in waves, and that scent Stan was searching for was seeping, little by little—it was definitely there.

It was somehow more inviting than Butters’—whom Stan was sure had the most potent aroma than any other Omega he’s ever come across—but it was undeniable, and still too light to swallow him up completely. 

He decided to tempt it out, rubbing his nose affectionately where the bottom of Kyle’s hair starts and into it, mouthing his lips in silent words against the skin.

Before long, the words became less, and turned into something like open-mouthed, dry kisses, and Stan’s other hand came up to brush up and tangle into Kyle’s hair. 

The scent was starting to fill his senses, still at too slow of a pace to fully capture or give a name to, and Stan growled impatiently, darting his tongue past his lips to wet the skin there. 

Then again. 

And again. 

Stan was surprised when without a word, Kyle suddenly stood up from the bed, his fingers slipping through his marmalade of curls, and Kyle was still avoiding his gaze. The aroma that was beginning to make him feel lightheaded was gone now, and Kyle was walking away, not turning to even look at Stan. _ Fuck. _

“Sorry, you know. I’m just—I’m not feeling so good. I should get going.”

The last Stan saw of Kyle was him leaving out his bedroom door in a hurry before Stan could come to his senses and say something, feeling slightly dizzy on the small scents that were trickling out past the glands on Kyle’s neck. Although vague, it was lovelier beyond words, and while Stan wished for more of it, he was wishing harder that he had been better about controlling himself.

He fucked up, he knew it. 

Kyle trusted him to help him in this way, and he must have humiliated and scared him! What kind of best friend was he? He practically assaulted him, Kyle didn’t ask to be licked like that. Friends don’t do that.

Kenny and Butters were wrong—Kyle didn’t like him at all. He wouldn’t have rushed out in rush a hurry, or try to avoid Stan’s eyes.

In all the years they’ve known each other, Stan couldn't say there was ever a time Kyle deliberately acted this way, and now it was only because Stan acted selfishly and made him uncomfortable.

He wanted to make things better, to make them go back to the way they were before. 

* * *

That night, he stared at his inbox on his phone. The past messages between him and Kyle that were about making plans for that weekend to hit up the movie theaters and relaying back and forth possible films and times. Now that was basically out of the window, Stan concluded. 

He wished to say something, but what?

After some tossing and turning, scrolling back and forth to even older messages that were riddled with emojis and laughter, he decided the best thing to do first and foremost was apologize. He still hadn’t even left the room since Kyle went home, so engulfed in his worry over how Kyle must be feeling, what he lost.

_ im so sorry kyle. you can totally be mad at me i deserve it. _

_ i didn’t mean to take advantage of you like that. i don’t know what got over me. _

_ please forget any of it happened im so sorry dude theres no excuse _

The messages were each spaced out an hour apart, and Stan could see when they were read each time—almost immediately once they were sent.

But no bubbles ever appeared, no sign that Kyle was formulating a response back.

Stan would much rather prefer Kyle screaming at him and telling him his feelings, rather than ignore him completely like this. It just wasn't like him—he couldn't even ignore Cartman no matter how hard he tried!

Jesus Christ. He was worse than Cartman now, in Kyle's eyes.

While their homes were still next to each other like they always had been, Stan didn’t dare walk over to check up on Kyle personally. Even his parents noticed just how he was behaving, how odd it all seemed.

“I thought you and Kyle were going out to the movies today?” his mother asked at some point that weekend, but Stan didn’t have the heart to tell her what happened between them: how Stan acted out as a terrible Alpha, so taken by lust after Kyle’s sweet scent. 

“Nah, raincheck,” he lied, trying to force a smile.

He could tell his mom wanted to press—her lips pursing together in a line—but she respected Stan’s privacy. He wondered if his dad ever did something like that to her, and what she had done about it. She was an Omega herself, a loving mother who soothed Stan’s nerves without even trying.

It seems though, after witnessing his parents’ marriage throughout the years that contrary to popular belief, not all Alpha and Omega relationships were a match made in heaven. 

It was a struggle enduring the entirety of the weekend without his best friend. When Monday came around, there was no sign of Kyle at school, much less any response from his number on Stan's phone.

By Wednesday, Stan was beginning to unravel into a mess, and didn’t know if he could hold himself together much longer.

Did Kyle hate him so much that he’s avoiding school so he didn’t have to be around him ever again? Is it possible he just switched schools all of a sudden?

There was no one better to vent to for the time-being than Butters, who has had his fair share of Alphas chasing after him. He could perhaps provide some insight into how Kyle feeling or what the best thing for Stan to do is, so he can get across just how sorry he was, and would do anything to take the events that took place in his bedroom that previous Friday back.

“Fuck dude, I don’t know what’s going on, and it’s driving me crazy!” Stan was barely able to keep his voice hushed as they stood together within the sea of bustling students walking around them by the lockers. “Kyle’s not talking to me, and he hasn’t been at school all this week so far! This isn’t like him!”

Butters stared at him wide-eyed, especially today with his bangs pinned back in brightly colored clips with tiny Sanrio characters’ faces glued onto them. Almost like a deer in headlights. 

“You haven’t heard, Stan? He’s having his first Heat right now.”


End file.
